


It’s Like Ripping Off A Bicycle & Riding A Bandaid

by WhatLocked



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol Fueld Sex, Awkward First Time, Fellatio, M/M, No Preparation What-So-Ever, PWP - Because Plots Are Overrated!, Sentient Penises, Sex, This is what happens when I spend a week living on Red Bull and Liquorice and Jaffa Cakes, but it works out in the end, lots of lube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2015-11-25
Packaged: 2018-05-03 08:32:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5283893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatLocked/pseuds/WhatLocked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is alcohol, 2 men and a shit load of unresolved sexual tension….what more can I say except that there is some awkward porn, an extreme lack of plot and penises with minds of their own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It’s Like Ripping Off A Bicycle & Riding A Bandaid

~~~~~~~~~~

The case had been a bad idea. It had been boring and predictable and terribly cliche’.

Accepting the bottle of Whiskey had initially been a good idea. It made up for the crap case.

Deciding to have a post case drink had been a bloody fantastic idea. The whiskey was good. Not overly expensive, but good.

The second whisky was an okay idea as well, and it certainly went down better than the first glass.

What was a really shit idea was deciding that dinner wan’t necessary right then, as the Chinese place was open until 2am, but a third glass of whiskey was needed.

What had seemed like a fun idea at the time was Sherlock, as he downed his fourth whiskey, betting John that he couldn’t do three laps of their living room whilst piggy backing said consulting detective.

It had been a cocky idea that John accepted that challenge but not until after their fifth whiskey.

In the end it was all a terrible idea as not even half way through the first lap John tripped when Sherlock found out that John had ticklish elbows and they both ended up in a heap on the floor in front of the kitchen door.

As our boys often have to make shit situations turn in their favour, and neither of them tended to shy away from a challenge they both decided to take this disastrous idea and turn it into a more pleasurable one.

This ended up with Sherlocks body covering John’s while their mouths crashed against each others and whiskey tasting tongues entwined, dancing from inside one mouth to the next, before moving back again.

“We should take this to the bedroom” John suggested once they finally pulled apart, both panting and both painfully aroused.

“I think that would be a marvellous idea” Sherlock agreed and stood up, somewhat a bit wobbly and reached down to help pull John up off of the floor.

John headed towards the bedroom and Sherlock retreated back to grab the whiskey and their glasses before following John into the bedroom.

“A celebration” Sherlock announced, placing the glasses on the bedside cupboard and poured in a rather generous amount into each one.

“To us” he said, handing a glass to John. “To us” John repeated and both of them downed their sixth (and possibly seventh) drinks, John placing his cup on the cupboard and Sherlock dropping his to the floor, where it landed with a dull ‘ _thunk_ ’ once they had finished.

It wasn’t long before the two of them were sloppily making out again, this time hands roaming and plucking at buttons with clumsy fingers.

Once tops had been shed the boys found themselves on the mattress, legs hanging over the edge, John grinding his hips against Sherlocks, trying to get closer.

“We are wearing far too many clothes” John whined impatiently. His cock was screaming at him for skin on skin friction and was really not at all happy about the fact that so far it had only been allowed to grind against cotton.

Sherlocks cock on the other hand was just pleased that its owner had finally, once again, allowed someone else to provide friction after so long of going solo. It wasn’t that Sherlocks hand didn’t do a wonderful job, it’s just that variety _is_ the spice of life, or so they say.

“Well” Sherlock huffed, weaving his hands between their bodies and latching onto the first waist band he found. “Why don’t you do something about it?”

With a huff of his own John pulled himself off of Sherlock and stood up. If either of them had been paying attention they would have heard their genitals cry out in desperate frustration, but both men were too busy trying to figure out which one of their many fantasies they wanted to live out while they fiddled with buttons and zips, and both wondering if that last drink was an overly good idea.

Finally both men were completely naked and as John took in the sight before him he felt his cock twitch in appreciation which caused Sherlocks cock to twitch in return.

“You…you are gord…gors….fucking fine” John praised, somewhat slurred. His Penis throbbed in agreeance, hoping to push the proceedings along.

“I want to fuck you” was Sherlocks response, never being one to beat around the bush. That and his mind couldn’t come up with a word that would fully describe the wonder that was a naked John Watson that was before him. His penis cheered at another amazing idea.

John opened his mouth to protest but as is often when John is several sheets to the wind, he decided that he was up for anything, and what the fuck. If anyone was going to stick anything up his arse, it was most definitely going to be Sherlock Holmes, the Greek god of fucking everything. So, despite the fact that his penis was grumbling that it wasn’t going to do the fucking ( _it always did the fucking….there had better be oral as compensation_ ) he just shrugged his head and said, “I’m up for it if you are.”

Now, this would have been a beautiful idea if only both of the participants had been of a more sober mind and actually thought this out, which neither did which is how John found himself on all fours up near the top of the mattress with Sherlock positioned behind him, dribbling an obscene amount of lubrication down Johns arse crack and John hissing at the rather low temperature against his rather warm skin.

“Ready?” Sherlock asked as he applied a generous amount of the slick liquid over his cock which was singing a praise of hallelujah.

“Umm…what ‘bout, you know…” and John raised his hands extending his index and middle finger out and making a probing motion. “You know….preparate me, or…”

Sherlock let out a rather imperious hum. “No, it’s really more like a bandaid” he said imformatively. Or it would have sounded that way if his voice wasn’t tainted by that drunken lilt that six, (maybe seven), glasses of whiskey will give anyone. “Pull it off fast and the unpleasant bit is over with…but we will be pushing not pulling…I think.” The last part of that sentence faded off into self musing mumbles, not that John cared. He was too busy questioning the beginning of the statement. His inebriated doctors mind was sure there was more to it all then just stick it in and go with it.

“Are you sure?” he asked and his penis twitched in frustration as for the past five minutes or so no attention had been paid to it at all.

In the meantime, Sherlocks penis was purring happily in his hand as its head rested against the tight, warm entrance to John’s backside.

“Sure I’m sure” Sherlock assured him somewhat haughtily as if he couldn’t believe someone would question his knowledge on the workings of anal sex.

“It’s just, I haven’t done this before” John said, sounding a bit unsure. “I’m trusting all of this to you right now.”

Sherlock did somewhat of a double take at this information. “What do you mean, ‘ _haven’t done this before_ ’? I was certain you were bi-cycicle….bisexual.”

John gave a small shrug. “Handies, blowjobs and I fucked him once. Never like….” and he twisted around so he could use one hand to point to Sherlocks cock and then to his own arse. “I was pretty sure I took time to prepera….prepra…get him ready” He said as he resumed his _on-all-fours_ position again.

Sherlock shook his head, not lucid enough to realise that John couldn’t see him from where they were both positioned. “Nope….that’s only drawing out the inevivitable. I’m sure.”

At this John’s penis shrunk back a bit in fear as a frown descended on Johns brow. “What do you mean, _you’re sure_. I thought you had done this before.”

“I have” Sherlock reassured, although to John it didn’t sound reassuring at all. “But it was so, so, soooo long ago” and his penis whimpered in support of that comment.

“It’s sex, Sherlock. It’s like riding a bike. You never forget how” John cried, a mixture of impatience, frustration and complete incredulity all mixed in his tone.

“Yes” Sherlock replied, using his _I’m being patient because I like you John_ voice, albeit slightly slurred this time round. “but I was never drunk when I rided a bisexual….bicycle.”

John considered this statement and it truly was a testament as to exactly how drunk and possibly lust ridden he actually was that he deemed this as a reasonable excuse.

“So, you’re sure?” he asked, just one more time and his penis let out a frustrated sigh, still unsure as to why no friction was going on.

“I’m sure” Sherlock replied almost completely confident and his penis was letting out little squeals of excitement over the fact that it was finally going to penetrate something that wasn't Sherlock’s fist. “Besides…its all about the lubrication and have a very adequ…I have used lots.”

With a resigned sigh John braced himself and said, “Okay, I’m all yours.”

Three little words had never sounded so much like music to Sherlocks ears. _I’m all yours_ are words he had dreamed, amongst many others, of John saying to him in many different scenarios that resembled this very one they were in right now and without any further ado Sherlock made sure the head of his cock was lined up with John’s wonderful, tight, _virgin_ entrance and he pushed right in.

With something that resembled a dying moan Johns penis sobbed and shrivelled into a useless, flaccid state, while John let out a rather loud “Jesus, fucking….” as he tried to pull away from the sudden burning stretching pain currently taking over his arse. This wasn’t overly effective as Sherlock had by then had an iron grip on Johns hips and as John pulled away, Sherlock followed, both of them falling onto the mattress, Sherlock now buried balls deep in Johns tight arse.

Despite recognising John’s distress and thinking he needed to pull out, and pull out NOW, his penis had other ideas and was revelling in the warm muscled cocoon of John’s arse and was very reluctant to be removed.

“John” Sherlock gasped, somewhat horrified at the realisation that despite the ludicrous amount of lubrication he had used maybe he should have prepared John a bit. Actually, now that his alcohol addled brain thought about it, it was usually one of the steps he complained about in the past as it took too long, but in actual fact, had been carried out... _Oops._

“No” John barked into the pillow which currently had his face smooshed into it. “No, its fine….it’s just….just don’t move for a bit, yeah!” And while his arse got used to being so filled his penis was somewhat appeased, but not much, at the fact that it had something pressed up against it, even if not much else was happening.

Sherlock laid very still, not wanting to move and make anything worse for John, but despite feeling rather cosy, his penis was starting to get impatient and thus decided to twitch.

This pulled a small twitch of John’s hips and Sherlocks penis, being quite clever just like it’s owner, twitched again, and then one more time for good measure.

Again, John’s hips gave a small twitch of their own and his own penis started getting a bit more excited at the, albeit rather small, amount of movement.

This went on a couple of more times before John turned his face away from the pillow and said in a rather low and possibly threatening voice, "okay, you can move, but very, _very_ , carefully."

Tentatively, Sherlock pushed up onto his knees, pulling out of John slightly, eliciting a gasp from the older man. Gently he grabbed Johns hips and pulled them up, just a bit, reaching over and grabbing a pillow and shoving it under the gap that was now under Johns pelvis. Then, very, _very_ , carefully Sherlock pushed back in, pulling a moan out of John’s throat. Then he pulled out again. _Gasp_. And pushed back in. _Moan_. Out. _Gasp_. In. _Moan_.

This carried on until the gasps were replaced with moans and Johns hips started thrusting back to meet Sherlocks forward thrusts. Gradually Sherlock pushed harder until John groaned out a “Faster, Sherlock” and then all bets were off. Sherlock tightened his hold on John’s hips and started pounding into John getting harder and faster, setting up a pace that had John writhing and sweaty underneath him.

John’s penis cried out every time Sherlock thrust into him as it pushed John’s body against the pillow underneath him and while it wasn’t the best friction it was a damn-site better than what it was getting before.

In the mean time, while Sherlock was working up his own sweat, small grunts leaving his mouth every time he thrust into Johns wonderful body, his penis was moaning whorishly as it slid in and out between Johns arse cheeks, in and out of his body, spitting out beads of pre come as Sherlock moved faster and pushed harder.

Sherlock could feel himself winding tighter and soon the rhythm he had built up was lost and his thrusts started to become erratic. His penis started chanting out _yes, yes, more, more_ before opening up, allowing streams of ejaculate to pulse out of it into Johns body as nerve endings all over Sherlocks body fired off a million tiny fireworks as his orgasm fired through his body.

As Sherlock came down from his orgasm he dropped down, pinning John’s body under him, against the mattress. Completely satiated the penis inside of John stopped releasing it’s plumes of pleasure and feeling quite proud of itself started relaxing.

This did not bode well for Johns penis at all who started crying out n _o, no, no, no, no…we weren’t finished yet!_ John himself was about to try and push Sherlocks body off of his so he could reach between himself and the mattress and finish himself off but as he opened his mouth a surprised cry, instead of words, came out as he found himself being flipped onto his back.

Without a word Sherlock lunged down and attached his mouth around the head of John’s cock and John’s cock went from crying out in anguish to chanting cries of praise.

As Sherlock worked his mouth over Johns cock, licking and sucking, he took more and more of it into his mouth and John couldn’t stop his hips from bucking up.

“Fucking, Jesus…..yes, right there” he moaned as Sherlock hollowed out his cheeks as the tip of his tongue wiped over the slit on the tip of his penis, lapping at the pre-come that was slowly dripping out.

“God, Sherlock, I’m gonna…..” John didn’t get to say anymore as his muscles tightened in his abdomen before a wave of pleasure washed over him. His penis opened up and let out an almighty roar as wave after wave of come washed into Sherlocks mouth, which he swallowed down promptly, wanting everything of John Watson that he could get.

Once John’s penis had completely spent itself it lazily slipped out of Sherlocks mouth sending out a silent thank you to whoever it was that had come up with the concept of Fellatio.

Sherlock crawled up to lie next to John, resting his head on John’s shoulder, pulling the quilt up over them.

“John” Sherlock asked, trying not to sound nervous.

“Mmm?” Was John’s sleepy reply as he brought his arm up to wrap around the younger mans shoulder.

“Was this a good idea?” Now that he was feeling considerably more sober the full implications of what they had just done were starting to weigh on him.

“It was the best idea” John smiled, pulling Sherlock even closer.

“What if we don’t think so when we wake up in the morning?” he asked.

John let out a small huff. “Sherlock. I have wanted to do this forever. Trust me, I’m not going to change my mind.”

Sherlock settled further onto John’s shoulder, more relieved at hearing that confession. How he had missed John’s affection for him he would never know, but suddenly Sherlock was thankful for the dull case and the slightly better than average bottle of whiskey.

“John?” Sherlock asked.

Again, “Mmm?” was all the response he got.

“Can we do this again tomorrow, but better?”

He could hear the smile in John’s next reply. “I think that is the best idea you have ever had.”

And below the quilt two penises hummed in sleepy satisfaction at the prospect of skin on skin friction with another person.


End file.
